Now, with the disfigured Barry Allen transformed by Herman into Black Flash, it was no longer appropriate to call him by his former name.
After Herman's modification, he had become something entirely different—a monstrous reaper, a creature born from the fusion of Barry's decayed body and tortured soul, stripped of any will or thought of its own.
Calling him the Death Speedster was fitting—not only as a reflection of his terrifying velocity but also because Herman had granted him a measure of divinity through the authority of the [Lord of the Dead].
That divine attribute—the power to bring death to all living things—was inspired by the original Black Flash of the DC Universe.
Among Speedsters, a chilling legend had long persisted: every Speedster is unique, but their deaths are inevitable. Hidden deep within the Speed Force exists a shadow—a black Speedster destined to reap the lives of all others.
No one can escape its pursuit.
That black figure that hunts down every Speedster... is the Black Flash.
"No matter how fast you run, you can never outrun death!" The "death" in that phrase refers to the most mysterious of all Speedsters—Black Flash. In DC lore, Death itself created this being as its servant, forged for one purpose: to hunt down those who could run faster than mortality itself.
For some Speedsters had grown so fast that they could even leave Death behind. To counter this, Death created its own hunter—the perfect predator of the Speed Force.
Black Flash is the enemy every Speedster fears most—and the fate that awaits them all.
The Speed Force may be a gift, but at times, it manifests as a curse. Black Flash possesses unimaginable speed, capable of running as fast as any Speedster—and at least four times the speed of light.
Because of that, he is counted among the fastest beings in the DC Universe, able even to freeze time outside the Speed Force and sever a Speedster's connection to it entirely.
"I'll grant him the frost of the Realm of the Dead. That should make him nearly equal to the original Black Flash."
Herman approached the motionless figure before him. He raised his hand, and a wisp of icy energy from the Realm of the Dead flowed into Black Flash's form.
In an instant, the creature—already eerie and deathly—became even more terrifying. His body radiated a chilling aura, one cold enough to freeze the Speed Force itself within any who dared approach.
"As the Lord of the Dead, owning a Black Flash feels... appropriate," Herman said, gazing at his creation. He admired it for a long while, deeply satisfied with the result.
First had come the Frost Giants, the initial souls to populate his [Realm of the Dead]. Now, this undead Speedster added a new dimension to it—a creation born not only of death but of motion.
Herman could almost see it—the growing diversity of his dominion, the [Realm of the Dead] thriving with an expanding variety of species.
How to describe it?
Collecting the souls of one's enemies—once you get used to it—it almost feels like collecting Pokémon.
You beat them, capture them... and later, when you need them, you just toss them out to fight again.
"What a strangely fitting analogy."
Herman smiled faintly, then began testing Black Flash's capabilities. After all, the disfigured Barry Allen was still Barry Allen—the fastest among all Speedsters. Now reforged into Black Flash by Herman, the Speed Force's favor toward him had barely waned.
In fact, having shed his mortal flesh, Black Flash could now unleash speeds even more terrifying than those Barry Allen once possessed.
Though he still couldn't quite match Savitar's godlike velocity, his current speed exceeded Quicksilver's post–Speed Force limit by at least seven or eight times.
And with the divine power Herman had bestowed upon him—one that allowed him to draw strength from his enemies after catching them—Black Flash's potential now surpassed that of even the Frost Giants and their king.
"Perhaps... in time, he might even hunt Sky Father–level beings for me," Herman mused, his gaze glimmering with satisfaction. "Maybe even the Five Cosmic Entities."
He allowed himself a moment to revel in the thought before snapping his fingers.
A rift to the [Realm of the Dead] split open before him, shaped like an obsidian doorway.
In the next instant—
"Swish!"
At Herman's command, Black Flash became a streak of pure black lightning, darting into the opened gate and vanishing into the Realm of the Dead.
When not needed, that was where he would remain. However, because of the modifications Herman had made to him, he could no longer generate the same energy extracted from agony as the other dead souls within the realm.
A trade-off, perhaps.
The modified Black Flash had a far higher growth potential, though he couldn't be treated like the Frost Giants—mere "power generators" for Herman's domain.
From this day forward, the sole purpose of Black Flash's existence was to deliver death's final "greeting" to Herman's enemies.
No matter where they hid—even if they concealed themselves between the folds of time—he would pursue them relentlessly until he dragged them down into the abyss of death.
After Herman's transformation, Black Flash not only retained his Speed Force but also gained the ability to absorb the life force of his prey through physical contact.
A single touch from him could drain an ordinary human of every drop of vitality, leaving behind only a shriveled corpse.
Even transcendent beings were not exempt. No matter how great their power or how vast their life force, they would fall all the same—just as swiftly as any mortal.
That was the power of divine law.
It was also the essence of the Divinity Herman had imbued into him.
With a Gold-tier identity, Herman could rise as a Divine Sovereign. With a Platinum-tier one, he could ascend to a Death-aligned god. One of the greatest privileges of his title as [Lord of the Dead] was that his very existence had become nearly synonymous with Death itself.
That also meant the Black Flash he had created was no weaker than the one born of the Death principles within the DC Universe.
Both were creatures forged from the same concept—manifestations of Death's pursuit made flesh.
"This trip was well worth it," Herman said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Not only did I put an end to Savitar's absurd plan, but I've also strengthened myself in the process."
His mood was excellent. Not only did he now have Black Flash as his executioner, but he also had Savitar's armor—an artifact that promised more than a few surprises.
Its material alone was extraordinary, likely originating from the 25th century or beyond—a product of the interstellar age. Even in the DC Universe's distant future, such metals would be rare. After all, not even Herman's Sky Father–level strength could scratch the armor's surface.
Were all future humans in the DC Universe that strong? Of course not. The only plausible explanation was that the disfigured Barry had obtained some rare metal from the distant reaches of the DC cosmos—a substance of unimaginable resilience.
Either way, the Savitar Armor was now in Herman's possession. Even if he couldn't replicate its alloy, deciphering the technology woven into it would be a gain in itself. Perhaps he could even learn to harness the Speed Force—to mass-produce Speedsters of his own.
"Haha, I really do let my thoughts run wild," he chuckled to himself. "Still, I've no need to hide in a turtle shell. Though... Skye and the others could use something like that."
Herman smirked at the thought.
He was just about to activate Raven's teleportation to return to New York...
However—
Crack... crack... crack...
Amid the torrential rain pouring over the ancient forest, a strange sound began to echo—a sharp, rhythmic crackling that rose and fell in the darkness.
From far to near, the noise grew clearer, cutting through the howling wind and rain until it filled the night.
And then, suddenly—
Herman noticed with surprise that the space around him seemed to turn over like a mirror. The forest, once alive with motion, froze completely. The wind no longer stirred the trees. The chorus of insects fell silent. Even the relentless downpour lost its roar.
The rain that had been pelting down moments before now hung motionless in midair, every droplet suspended between sky and earth.
Time itself seemed to have stopped.
"How peculiar," Herman murmured. He raised his hand and brushed it through the air. His fingers came away wet. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the droplets scattering to the ground.
Where he'd wiped, the suspended rain was gone—leaving a visible gap in the frozen downpour, like a blackboard thick with chalk suddenly wiped clean.
"Mirror Dimension."
Understanding dawned on him, his tone filled with curiosity rather than confusion. The world turning over like glass—that could only mean one thing.
Kamar-Taj's signature spell.
A form of magic that replaced reality with reflection, creating an isolated space detached from the real world. Within this mirrored realm, no event—no matter how catastrophic—could affect reality beyond its boundary. Even a nuclear explosion, whether outside or within the Mirror Dimension, would leave the other untouched.
Essentially, it was a spatial construct—a small, contained world mirroring fragments of the real one.
"Sorcerer Supreme..."
Herman turned his gaze toward the distance.
Through the still curtain of frozen rain, a slender figure in a flowing yellow robe stepped slowly forward.
In the darkness of the night, the Ancient One's face was expressionless—cold, severe. Where her eyes should have been, there was only darkness. Two hollow voids, deep and infinite, like black holes that devoured light itself.
Empty.
Devoid of spirit.
And utterly chilling.
...
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